The Forest is Very Lonely for a Thing Like He

Hermione,

I hope this letter finds you well, along with this belated birthday gift. It was very nice seeing you on the weekend after your birthday. I’ve been experimenting on muggle crafts, this one is called pottery. I put a charm inside the clay to make it indestructible, and the glaze is green to heal your broken heart. I heard about what Ron did and I’m so sad a friend did that to another friend.

Don’t let the whackspurts get you down,

Luna Lovegood.

Hermione smiled while reading the letter, then turned to the parcel. She was pretty glad that Luna didn’t seem to harbor any negative feelings over Hermione borrowing her as a rebound. Out of all the people she had ‘dated’ or kissed she was the most worried that Luna would turn to dislike her. Wrapped in simple brown craft paper, it came that morning shortly after breakfast. She snapped the twine with a letter opener, peeled back the paper.

Inside the box were two large green mugs, they had ripples on the sides that echoed the deft princess-like hands that Luna had. When she said they were green, she must’ve meant an emerald green that shone in the sun. The handle was tough and had a little dent on the top so that Hermione could press her thumb into it for a better grip.

“Wow, Luna,” Hermione said as she took one out.

Draco walked in and nodded to her.

“Here!” Hermione said and handed him one of the two mugs.

“What’s this?” Draco lifted it up and inspected the mug. Green was a nice color on him, but since he had stopped wearing Slytherin’s colors, Hermione decided against telling him that.

“Luna, she made them for me as a belated birthday gift.”

“Wow.” He handed it back to her.

“Hold on to it. You can give it to me after school if you really don’t want it.”

He blinked at her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well thank you, Granger.”

“She also put an indestructible charm on it, and the green is meant for healing.”

Draco walked to his desk and sat down. “Is that true? I thought colors weren’t indicative---”

“Well… the science isn’t a hundred percent conclusive.”

“Do my ears deceive me? Hermione Granger, who called Luna Lovegood like everyone else Looney Lovegood saying the science isn’t---?”

“My mind is allowed to change.”

“Sure,” Draco said with a smirk.

“You called her Looney, too.” Hermione retorted.

“Actually, I did not.”

“Liar.”

“Harsh words, Granger. Harsh words. No. Luna is sweet. A little silly, but harmless.”

“Luna? You call her by her first name?”

“She begged me to.” Draco shrugged.

“When?”

“Ah… in the dungeon.” He began eating his breakfast.

A flash of Luna at Shell Cottage shortly after they had escaped Malfoy Manor passed Hermione’s eyes.

“You… talked with her?”

He nodded, swallowing a bite of toast. “Quite frequently. The goblin didn’t like me.”

“Griphook?”

“That’s the name.” Draco nodded.

“What were you doing in the dungeon?”

He stared at her confused. “It is my house, Granger. As horrible as that sounds, I did grow up there.”

She sighed. “Right, right.”

“Tea?” he asked.

Hermione nodded. “Oh! I’ve been keeping an ear out for those rumors you’ve said are going around about you.”

He put the kettle on his desk and brought her mug overusing his wand. “Tell me more.”

“There’s a rumor that says you’re actually your father who just took a bunch of anti-aging potion. This apparently is your fourth go-around. You just like puberty that much.”

Draco laughed. “Yes, the random hard-ons, the best thing about puberty.” he rolled his eyes. He conjured water and filled the dented kettle.

Hermione had to fight the image from her head of Draco in a shower with a said hard-on. She quickly moved away. “Another says you’re the son of you know who.”

He shook his head while tapping the kettle, it began to steam and bubble. “Creative that one is.”

“You were engaged to your aunt Bellatrix.”

“Gross, but not out of the realm of possibilities. Pureblood breeding tends to be incestuous.”

“While you were a Deatheater, you drank blood from the queen of England.”

“Lizzy would never.” He parsed out the loose leaf tea and poured the water over the leaves.

Draco said it in such a dry tone that Hermione started to laugh. “Last one. You’re a legilimens.”

He blinked rapidly. “Huh. Didn’t think that a real fact would’ve been mixed in about me.”

“What?”

He glanced up from the tea and gently guided her mug back to her desk. “I’m a legilimens.” he shrugged.

“You can read my mind?” Hermione felt her face grow red.

“Well… no.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, squashing down her panic.

“It’s a Black family trait.”

“Doesn’t explain what you mean.” Hermione had just thought about him naked in the shower .

He sighed. “I can feel emotions. If I really wanted to read your mind you’d know.”

“How so?”

“I could show you.”

Hermione stared at him. “No, thank you.”

He shrugged and sat heavily down, sipping his tea, and pulling a frown in distaste.

Hermione took a swig of her tea, earl gray, it tasted just like it, maybe a little on the weak side, but it was probably still steeping.

“I can tell when someone is very sad, or very happy. When I was a kid that’s partially why I kind of went crazy at Quidditch games. The emotions literally fed into me. In the summer of my third year, Bella and my mum taught me to control it. Then Severus taught me how to do occlumency. After I had those things mastered, Bella taught me how to read people's minds. She stopped when I was sixteen. I’m not as quiet as she was though. She was pretty sneaky. Compared to her, I’m an elephant in a potions cabinet.”

“Did… did you-know-who know?”

He shrugged. “That I’m not sure of. I know he was a very talented legilimens. Some say he was born with it. I disagree.”

“Why’s that?”

Draco took another swig of his tea and swallowed hard. “Difficult to explain. Bella before she lost her grip on things was very talented and quiet. My mum is excellent at it.  However, when he entered into my head, it was erratic, like… someone was tearing up an office. I used to chalk it up to that he wasn’t family, and my mum and Bella were and we knew the way around our heads, but…” he shrugged.

“You never closed off your mind to him?”

He shook his head while sipping his tea. “No, that would’ve earned me a swift cruciato to the stomach. I learned pretty quickly after my father tried that.”

“Your father wasn’t a legilimens?”

“No. Like I said, it was a Black family trait. With practice, I’ve been told, I could be a great legilimens.”

Hermione nodded.

He turned to his work. “Just need people to practice on,” he said offhandedly.

“You won’t practice on me.”

“You would notice as I said, I’m quite loud. But, it could be useful, you never know.”

“It’s such an invasion of privacy.” Hermione moaned.

“Yes. Exactly why I don’t do it. Just sometimes emotions and heavy feelings are hard for me to ignore. It’s also something I can’t stop doing. I can’t stop breathing, Granger.” He said lazily looking up to her.

“Like?”

He set down his quill and rubbed his forehead. “The night we were told we were going to be the heads. I could tell you were… upset about something.”

Hermione stared at him.

“You hid it really well because at first, I thought it was myself or McGonagall. Then you had the panic attack. That’s why I said that you were going to make me have a panic attack because I felt that despair, but I also knew that you having a panic attack wasn’t about me pulling out my wand, at least not entirely. It was something else. I didn’t figure out until later it was…” He motioned.

“Ron and I broke up.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve tried to go a whole day with putting up walls, but it’s exhausting. Also, people tend to think I’m insane.”

“How so?”

Draco sighed and blinked rapidly. Then suddenly, his face set into a stone. His silver eyes lost all emotion, his lips turned downward, and his eyebrows set flat on his forehead. She had seen him pull this face once or twice, and each time, she felt anxiety bubble up in her. No emotion on a human face was a jarring thing, if she didn’t know better, she would assume Draco Malfoy died right in front of her.

“Ah. Yes.”

His face broke back into expressions. “Looks a bit insane,” he muttered.

“Did Sirius Black have the gift?”

Draco frowned and thought. “I… I don’t know. I do know that it wasn’t the only thing the Black’s had family trait wise.”

“What other things did the Black family have?”

He smirked. “My father used to joke with my mum that the Black family tends to either go crazy or go against the family wishes. She said she would rather go crazy than betray the family. But shows you what she knew about best-laid plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“Please, Granger. Enough with the questions. It’s a Saturday, and I’d like to catch up on my work.”

Hermione shut her mouth and began her own homework.

The first full week of October a huge heatwave crashed onto the grounds. They were wrapping up one of their last rounds of the patrol before dinner when they ran into a second-year Slytherin passed out from the heat.

“Goodness.” Hermione said wiping the sweat from her forehead, she already had her hair tied back in a thick ponytail. The elastic was already threatening to snap, and Ginny promised that when it did, she would braid Hermione’s hair and magically tie it at the end to keep it out of her face.

Malfoy knelt down. “Sayre?” he asked, gently shaking the boy.

Hermione took out her wand. “Rennervate,” she whispered and flicked her wand.

Instantly, Sayre woke up and sat up. When he saw Draco, his face scrunched up. He pushed Draco away. “Get off of me you blood traitor.”

Hermione conjured a goblet of water and began to hand it to the kid.

He smacked it out of her hands. “I don’t drink out of things from a mudblood like you.”

Her arm throbbed. Mudblood. Mudblood.

“Watch your mouth.” Draco scolded.

“Fuck you.” The kid hissed, then he spat a fat wad of mucus at Draco, it landed on his face.

Draco wiped it away. “A hundred points from Slytherin,” he said as cool as he could manage. His voice teemed with rage and annoyance.

The boy opened his mouth, corners of his lips turned down.

“Want to make it two?” Hermione asked, she hoped her voice sounded stronger than how she felt.

The kid looked away from the both of them, growling. Draco offered the kid a hand to sit up.

He swatted it away. “Your father was the only real pureblood left, he was the only one that had any real class.”

“Ah, like you?” Draco asked, eyebrows raised.

“Look at the bloodlines, gone because of you.” he spat.

“Yes, let’s take a look at the Sacred Twenty Eight. Half dead, the other half so badly inbred that most of them are squibs or have club feet. The only family that is still around is the Weasley family. They were on the right side of the war, and look at them---”

“Blood traitors, the lot of you! Now what, you’re sleeping with this mud---”

Draco snapped, grabbed the robes of the kid, and stood with him. “Say it.” he said in a dangerous voice.

The kid’s feet dangled at least half a meter from the ground.

Draco’s face betrayed no anger, he looked as if he simply could’ve been listening to Hermione discuss the weather.

“C’mon, say it. I was like you once. I thought that it was just a word, it didn’t matter. I used to say it to her or about her on the near-daily. Then one day, she’s on the floor of my manor, bleeding out, that word carved into her arm and I realized then. How stupid it all is. Muggle-born wizards provide fresh water to the stream of magic, Pureblood ideals pollute it.”

The kid smirked. “I hear your blood is polluted, isn’t it?”

“I’m trying to save you from yourself, I’m trying to save you from becoming me.”

The kid laughed cruelly. “At least my father loves me.”

Draco laughed just as cruel, just as spine-tingling. “My father was the reason why this system broke. I’m the reason he’s in there. He deserves every second of that torture. If I had to do it all over again, I’d just kill him myself.” Draco dropped the kid unceremoniously.

He ran off.

“Drink some water!” Hermione called after him.

Draco turned incredulous eyes to her.

“What?”

Draco pointed his thumb to the kid now smaller in the distance. His head cocked as if to say: “What?”

“If he collapses again from dehydration, we’re going to have another run-in with him.” Hermione reasoned.

He stared at her then burst out laughing. He hunched forward and his lower back hit the wall. His real laugh was light and came from his stomach, his entire face scrunched up in a large smile.

“I don’t really see how it’s funny.” Hermione reasoned a smile tickling her lips.

“He just… he was…” Draco couldn’t stop laughing.

“And then you threatened a twelve-year-old, I’m sure McGonagall is going to yell at us for that.”

“Then you! Water.” Glittery tears formed at the corners of his eyes.

“I see the humor.” Hermione shrugged.

“Gods, Granger.” he took a deep breath.

“What?”

“You are…” he shook his head.

“What?” She pressed.

“Surprising.” he finished.

“He probably passed out due to dehydration. It would explain his yellowish skin color.”

He started laughing, again. “Mention that to him next time. Gods, I’d love to see his face.”

They began walking again.

“How long until McGonagall finds out?” Hermione asked.

“By tomorrow for sure.” Draco nodded.

“I say within a week.”

“You wanna place money on that, Granger?”

“A galleon.”

“Deal.” he stuck out his hand.

They shook. His hand was sturdy and his fingers long wrapped around her hand comfortingly.

“Looks like we’re off the clock,” Hermione said, checking her watch.

“Thank Merlin.” Draco moaned.

“But it’s still too early to go to supper.”

“I need to walk after that, care to join me?”

“Quite hot outside, have you had any water?” Hermione asked.

He chortled. “I have a witch by my side that is quite talented at conjuring a goblet and water out of thin air, will that suffice?”

“I suppose it will.” Hermione smiled at her shoes.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yes, why?”

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, they turned the corner and began to now aimlessly walk.

“Ah. Well… I think it’s psychosomatic, but whenever I think about it or hear the word, my arm hurts.”

He frowned. “Huh.”

“But… last week when I had that panic attack, I don’t remember it hurting. In the dream I do, but not after.”

He pursed his lips. “Have you researched cursed scars?”

She laughed. “I grew up next to Harry freaking Potter, scar boy wonder. He gets twinges every once and a while, too.”

“Right.”

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just roughed up a twelve-year-old, Draco. No sane nineteen-year-old does that.”

“Well, good thing I’m kinda fucked in the head then.”

“What he said about your father---”

“He was right.”

“It was uncalled for.”

“Well,”

“Your father loves you, doesn’t he?”

“No, he doesn’t. He made that pretty clear.” Draco said with proud bitterness in his voice. It made Hermione wonder about the Malfoy trial.

They found themselves walking across the new bridge that had been replaced after Seamus had blown it up. The wood still smelt fresh and reminded Hermione of the few times she and her father went into a home improvement store.

“Do you love him?”

Draco sighed and stopped resting his forearms on one of the little sectioned-off parapets that overlooked the river down below. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I do, but then I remember…”

“Makes it complicated.” She rested her forearms on the parapet next to his.

“Do you still love Weasley?”

Hermione paused tracking a white crane that flew from one end to the next, gathering fish for herself. “You know the English language is so limited. We only have very few words to describe our feelings in the most basic of ways.”

“Meaning?”

“You can either hate, be neutral, like, or love something, or someone. You cannot be in between any of the four. Then more so, you can love someone, but not love the same way you love, say your best friend.”

He nodded.

“Once on summer holidays when I recognized my feelings for Ron, I tried to… explain it.  I love him as a friend, but I loved him as a potential lover or boyfriend or…”

“Whatever.”

“Exactly. So I looked for a word that described my feelings, and I discovered other languages that had loads more words for love. Sanskrit has nine--”

“Ninety-six.” he nodded.

“Exactly.”

“So did you find one?”

“I thought I did.” She took a deep breath and stretched her arms. “But now, I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “Because he cheated?”

“Because he cheated.”

Draco hummed and began walking again.

“Did you ever cheat on Pansy?”

He slowed his walk and shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked down at the planks of wood held together by magic and pitch. “I… yes.” He turned to gauge her reaction.

“Oh.” That was all she could think to say.

“There was no excuse, really.”

“But you have your side of the story?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s hear it.”

He didn’t say anything for a very long time, they had crossed the bridge and had begun to walk down towards Hagrid’s. Hagrid wasn’t there, he was off-campus doing helping the giants and wizard community rebuild ties.

“Do you promise not to… not to…” he sighed and chewed on his lip, he was sweating, and Hermione suspected that not all of his perspiration was from the heat.

“I won’t be mad. I won’t judge you.”

“I’d also like to state that I’ll never do it again if I am ever lucky enough to find another relationship.”

“Good.”

He sighed, his shoulders hunched. “It was just… just a thing that my father did. He would cheat on my mother, and I thought that was… normal. My mother even once sat me down and explained that in these marriages… these arranged marriages, very often, you have to leave some room for mistresses or paramours. It wasn’t until after I broke up with her, I realized. But we still had our engagement to break off.”

“That’s why she hit you a few weeks ago?”

“You’re not going to let me live that one down until I tell you, huh?”

“Never.”

He smiled. “I don’t think you’ll want to hear the reason, Granger.”

“Try me.”

He sighed. “I’m not ready, yet, Granger.”

She nodded.

“But… I guess you could say that it was one of the reasons.”

“So, she hit you because you broke up with her, she discovered you were cheating, and you broke off your engagement?”

“Yes.”

“What more is there to your story?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry.”

They reached the edge of the forest and walked along the outer edge of it.

“You know, I really enjoy talking to you, Draco.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why’s that, Granger?”

They walked a few steps in silence then Hermione showed him her watch. It was nearing six in the evening, dinner would be served shortly. They both turned around and started to walk back.

“I’m not sure. But I can say that when I talk to you, I feel like I’m talking to someone like Harry or Ginny, but Harry and Ginny don’t like reading as much as I do.”

“No one likes reading as much as you do, Granger.”

“You do.” She said thinking of the massive stacks of books he devoured at his desk week by week. They both were the type of readers that weren’t ever satisfied with one book.

“You got me on that one.”

“It’s just nice to be on par with someone for once.”

He laughed. “I think you’re right. Crabbe and Goyle were horrible conversationalists.”

“I could’ve told you that by the looks of them.”

He huffed a short laugh.

“How about Blaise?”

He blinked and didn’t look at her. “What about him?”

“I just had noticed you were friends in fifth year.”

He was silent.

“Was he a good conversationalist?”

Draco was quiet as he trudged back up the steps. “No. I don’t suppose so.”

“Pity. Handsome bloke.”

“Says the woman who dated Ron Weasley. Decent looking, if not for the red hair, but dumb as a box of rocks.”

“He had his moments.” Hermione defended, but a grin played at her lips.

“One.”

“Not just one moment.”

“Fine… at least two.”

“More than that.”

“In fourth year, he thought that Potter put his name into the goblet of fire. Even after he witnessed his own hair-brained brothers attempt to use an aging potion to pass the age line.”

“Okay, but…”

“And don’t think I don’t know about the time you made polyjuice potion, dear witch. Second-year. Weasley tried to cover his red hair by putting a hand over it. As if the glow of that red hair would be covered by his hand.”

She froze.

He paced a few steps ahead of her, then looked back.

“What?”

“You knew?”

He guffawed. “Merlin, Granger. Do you think me that stupid?”

“How did you figure it out?”

He laughed. “Did you miss the part about Weasley trying to cover his hair with his hand? Let me list all the people I know who went to Hogwarts at the time with red hair. Percy Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley… Wait a minute I think I’m on to something here. Also, there’s no way that twelve year old Potter would’ve been able to make Polyjuice Potion. Way too complicated. Twelve year old Weasley would’ve lost at least a hand and his dick attempting to make the damn potion. Now, twelve year old Granger.” He nodded and shot her a flirty glance. He continued, “Twelve year old Granger, now she was intelligent enough to do it.”

She stared.

“When Crabbe and Goyle told me that they woke up in a broom closet, I put two and two together. How’d you do it?” He squinted at her.

“Sleeping potion.”

“Ah. How?” His brows furrowed.

“I… I put it in some cupcakes.”

He shook with laughter. “Fuck me, Granger. You quite possibly are the most clever witch of our age!”

She felt her face get hot.

“I thought you stunned them.”

“No, they would’ve remembered, then told---”

“Me. Right.” Draco nodded.

“You.” Hermione finished.

“Where were you that night?”

“You’re going to laugh.”

“I’ve been laughing.”

“I… I was supposed to turn into Millicent Bullstrode. But the hair I plucked from her robe was cat hair. So I turned into a cat, and Moaning Myrtle teased me quite harshly.”

He nodded then gestured for her to catch up.

She did.

“That’s why you were out for like two weeks.”

“I was literally coughing up fur balls.”

He snorted. Then they walked a few paces, panting in the heat.

“When you were petrified…” he asked.

She waited for him to continue.

“Do you remember… anything?”

She glanced at him. “It comes in snippets. It was like being asleep, but… worse? Hard to explain.”

“I visited you, did you…”

Her eyes widened. “You did?” She thought back to when she visited him shortly after the incident with Harry and him in the bathroom. She had helped Pomfrey give him something for the pain and regrowth of skin, and she sat next to him and read aloud while he slept. She had figured that he wouldn’t have remembered that, he was asleep.

He rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah. I guess you don’t remember.”

“Why’d you visit me?”

He winced. “Well,” he rubbed his eyebrow. He took an inhale in. “I was… I wanted to see it. I guess it was twelve year old stupidity.”

“Seems like there’s a lot of that going around,” she smirked.

“I wanted to see to feel… better than you. But I got there, and you had this look of horror on your face. It… scared me. Then Pomfrey forced me to help change your bedding. Went to bed with a new nightmare every day for two weeks.”

“Serves you right, you were a bit of a git back then.”

He laughed. “Yeah.”

At the Great Hall, Hermione and Draco went their separate ways. Hermione to the Gryffindor table and Draco to the Slytherin table. However, Draco just grabbed a plate and loaded it with food, and stalked out. Hermione sat across from Ginny. “Hello.” Hermione greeted.

“He must be smoking in that,” Ginny remarked.

“Hmm?” Hermione asked buttering a roll.

“Malfoy, he’s wearing a sweater. The hottest week on record here at Hogwarts.”

Hermione blinked at Ginny. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“And from the looks of it, a long sleeve shirt.”

Hermione looked at the doors where Draco had left. “Huh. I really hadn’t noticed.”

Ginny shrugged. “What were you two doing?”

“We were looking for anyone who passed out from heat exhaustion or dehydration. Then we just went on a walk.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Did you?”

Hermione frowned. “Yes.”

“Just a walk?” she smirked.

“Oh, hush, Gin. We’re just friends.”

“Were you able to keep up with him? And those long muscular legs?”

“I told you that once, and you’re never going to let me forget it.” Hermione groaned.

Ginny cackled. “And since when do you refer to him as your friend? Two weeks ago both of you were just pretending to be friends.”

Hermione became very interested in her shepherd's pie. “I think we have just found it is easier to be friends in order to pretend to be friends.”

“Love, that makes no sense. Ah, first Quidditch game. November sixth. Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff.”

Hermione nodded and made a mental note. “Thank you. How was your day?”

Ginny shrugged. “Letter from Ron. Another sonogram.”

She took an inhale in. “Right.”

“And it sounds like he and Parvati are going to do that split parenting thing. They’re not going to be together, but they’ll be raising the baby together.”

She nodded.

“They’re thinking of naming it Fred.”

Hermione took a bite of pie.

“But I don’t think they should. Leave that up to George, yeah?”

Hermione shrugged and nodded while chewing.

“You okay?”

Hermione took another bite of pie. “I don’t understand why I wouldn’t be okay.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “You know we will not let him live it down for the rest of his life, right? How he lost the literal best woman…”

“I’m not really.”

“I think you are. No offense to Parvati, but she is nowhere near you.”

Hermione chortled and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. “Funny. Draco said the same thing a few weeks ago.”

Ginny paused. “Did he now?” She asked with a smirk, and Hermione had almost forgotten she was related to Fred and George Weasley, the prankster twins of the centenary.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You roll your eyes now, Mione. Pretty soon, your eyes will be rolling back. That Malfoy is a handsome bloke.”

Hermione snorted in her pumpkin juice. “Ginny!”

“Pretty soon, if you don’t learn contraceptive spells, mum’s going to have another heart attack. I don’t think dad can handle that.”

“I thought Molly was the one having the heart attack.”

Ginny took an inhale in. “You’re silly to think that it wouldn’t stress dad out. It’ll be wall-to-wall rubber ducks and snipped plugs. I couldn’t handle that, Hermione, so please for all of our sakes, learn some contraceptive spells and potions.”

“Do you know them?” Hermione pressed taking another sip of pumpkin juice.

“Of course. I am… in fact… a whore.”

Hermione did a spit take. She threw her head back and laughed. Hermione said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was in charge of the current state of the universe. It felt damn good to laugh again. The whole day Hermione had noticed that there was so much more laughter and smiles. It really had brightened up this castle, the castle where so many had lost their lives not too long ago. It felt good to have a reason to smile, it felt good to have a reason to laugh. At the same time, it felt good to be on the precipice of laughter and smiles. Something that she hadn’t felt since she was ten and still watching books float around her in her room.

“Amortentia,” she whispered to the tree.

It unlocked and Hermione found Draco at his desk, he quickly turned away and began rolling down his sleeves.

“First Quidditch game November sixth.”

He turned back and nodded. “I’ll put it on the calendar.”

“You know, it’s quite hot today.”

“Yeah.”

“And… I know you’re a different person.” Hermione said walking to her desk and pulling out her homework for the evening.

Draco squinted at her. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m just saying… I don’t care about your tattoo.” she gestured to his left arm.

He sat very still.

“I’m fine, really. So if you’re hot, you can roll up your sleeves, or wear short sleeves, I don’t mind, really. I’m not offended by it.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked down, then stood. “Tea?”

“That’d be nice, thank you.”

“How was dinner?”

“It was good. You know, if you want you can sit with Ginny and me. I can’t exactly promise that Ginny will behave herself, but it’d be better than eating alone, I’m sure.”

He set the kettle hanging on the fire and turned to Hermione, his hands shoving into his pockets. “Thanks, Granger. I’ll keep it in mind.” She suspected he wanted some space from her. Hence why he decided to boil the water the muggle way, not the wizard way.

“Or if you’re worried the other Gryffindor’s would harass you, the three of us could eat in here.”

He prepared the loose leaves and set his mug on his desk and hers on hers. “Right.”

A few evenings later, they found themselves walking the perimeter of the grounds. They were checking the wards and patching the holes. Hermione found a particularly large hole, and she held out her wand and with gentle slow movements, it began to close. Then, a shimmery blue thread flowed from her wand and knitted itself to the patch, and soon, the hole was no longer there.

“Good job, Granger,” Draco said, nodding appreciatively.

“Thank you.”

They began walking again. “I’ve always wondered.” Draco said suddenly.

Hermione stepped over a rock. “Hm?”

“What did Potter do with the Elder Wand?”

“Oh! He snapped it in half.”

Draco stopped about two long strides away from her. “What?”

“He snapped it in half, then threw it over the bridge and into the river.”

He sighed his hands on his hips. “Merlin, I’ll never understand you Gryffindors.”

They started walking again. Hermione opened her mouth looking at the nape of his neck. “It was smart---”

“No, I know. Just saying I would’ve done something different.”

“Like? Take over the world?”

“No, I would first of all not tell everyone and their owl that I have the Elder Wand, just for starters. Then I’d find a nice little castle up in the mountains, be a nice quiet little hermit.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Never would’ve pegged you for OW!” She tripped and fell. Something grabbed her ankle hard. She landed on her front, her left wrist taking most of the weight.

Draco stepped closer to her. “You okay?”

She moaned. “No. I don’t think I am.”

He got near enough to see her. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, I was just… I just tripped and…” He helped her turn over to sit on her backside. She hissed in pain.

“What is it?”

“My ankle and my wrist.” She groaned.

“Fuck. Let me see.” Draco tugged up her pant leg. “Right.” he tugged it back down.

She frowned at him. “What is it?”

“I don’t know much about the human body, but I do know that the ankle isn’t supposed to bend at that ankle.”

Hermione whimpered.

Draco held out his hand. “Your wrist.”

She found herself handing over her wrist for the second time since they’d started to work together. Her wrist pulsed with pain.

His hands were cool. He turned his hand slightly, and she winced once more. “We better get you to Madam Pomfrey.”

“How?”

“What do you mean how?”

“I can’t walk, and I’m also way too heavy for you.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re not that heavy. I’m sure I can carry you.”

“Or you can leave me here, and get help.”

“What is it with you bloody Gryffindor’s and sacrificing yourself? Stop that, there’s no way that is healthy. I’m not leaving you alone in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, a place Witch Weekly once described as The Most Dangerous Magical Place to Avoid in 1995. ”

“You read Witch Weekly?”

He looked up and around their surroundings as if suddenly reminded of the dangers that lurked in the forest. “Why on earth people wouldn’t have gotten more worried since the forest is next to a school is beyond me.”

Hermione stared at him.

He finally noticed that she was staring at him. “What?”

“You read Witch Weekly?”

“You say that like it’s odd?”

“Because it is? I don’t read Witch Weekly?”

“Are we going to pick apart the junk that I read, or are we going to get you up and out of here?”

Hermione sighed agreeing with him.

“Can you stand?”

“Not on both feet.”

“I can deal with the one, I just can’t pick you up all the way from down here.” He said and stood offering her a hand.

“Why?” she asked, taking it and standing on her right foot.

“I’ll throw out my back.”

“You’re too young to throw out your back.”

He rolled his eyes teasing her. “Exactly Granger.” he sighed and then literally swept her off her feet.

They swayed for a moment, then Draco shot a wicked grin at Hermione. Their faces were impressively close.  “Ha, see. Not heavy. Keep an eye and ear out, will you? No use in us getting eaten, or me breaking my ankle.”

She nodded and with her wand she whispered “Protego.” A blue shield swept over them like a very large umbrella.

“Ah, smart.”

“Not smart enough to not break my ankle.”

“That’s not something that cannot be avoided no matter how big your brain is, silly witch,” he said with a grin on his lips.

“You sure I’m not heavy?”

A low chuckle came from his lips. “No, Granger. You’re light.”

They made their way, somehow, up to the castle. Draco did have to pause a few times to catch his breath and Hermione squirmed in his arms but he held firm. Finally, after much work, they made their way into the infirmary.

Pomfrey noticed them right away, despite the late hour. “What happened?” she asked, rushing to them.

“Broken ankle and a sprained wrist. She fell.” Draco explained.

Pomfrey put a hand to her chest. “Thank Merlin, I don’t think I could deal with another appendicitis tonight. Mr. Malfoy, get her on an empty bed. I have five appendices that need to be removed post haste.”

Draco gently set her down on the fluffy bed, he reached around to her, and gently propped her up so she sat up. “You okay?” he asked, still really close to her.

Hermione nodded. “Besides my ankle and wrist? I’m peachy.”

He grinned and sat down on the bedside chair.

Hermione missed the warmth of Draco’s body and now found she was cold without it. She considered telling him that she was cold and to hold her again, but as she was working out the words, Madam Pomfrey ran in.

“Let me look, dear.” she attempted to lift the cuff.

The ankle was so badly swollen, that the cuff of her leggings was tight around it.

Pomfrey tisked. “We’ll have to take these off.” she began to shoo Draco off when a kid started to scream in pain. She instead sighed and said. “Mr. Malfoy, in that drawer next to you there are a pair of cotton shorts. Help Ms. Granger into them, I’ll be back.”

With a flick of her wand, the curtains around the bed snapped closed.

Draco located said cotton shorts and lifted them to show Hermione. They were deep navy blue, athletic shorts, and they looked about two sizes too big for her.

“How… are you okay with me…?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it was bound to happen eventually. Help me stand, you’re going to have to unbutton my pants.”

Gingerly he helped her stand on her right foot and she kept her balance as he unbuttoned her pants and gently tugged them down. She thanked once more to whoever was controlling the universe that she was wearing her favorite pair of undies. Dusty rose pink, with a soft hydrangea blue lace around the legs. Embroidered flowers were stitched in delicately.

He noticed, but Hermione tried not to notice that he noticed. It didn’t matter that Draco Malfoy saw her in her best pair of underwear. It didn’t matter one bit.

He knelt down and helped guide the pants down to her ankles, then standing, he grabbed her by her hips and placed her back on the bed.

She ignored the pooling of heat in her center, plenty of men had done that to her before, just none that she could think of at the moment.

He knelt again and gently guided off her shoes and sock on her left foot and watching her face carefully, he tugged off the pants. She sat, sucking in her stomach. Then decided it was silly and released it, only to suck it in once more when she noticed he was staring at her thighs.

Then, grabbing the shorts, he slid them onto her knees, then he helped her down and lifted the shorts up to her hips, his fingers leaving a white-hot trail up her legs. Once more, he put his hands on her hips and lifted her up to the bed, and sat her down.

Hermione tried really hard not to feel anything from that encounter, she really did.

“Bloody hell, it’s gotten worse,” he muttered looking at her ankle.

She chanced a peek at it. The skin was now a vibrant blue and she was very certain, though her career in ballet was very short-lived, she had never been able to twist her ankle that far. Her ankle joint now more resembled a tennis ball.

“Hold on,” he promised and walked through the curtains. He came back moments later with two fluffy pillows which he put under her ankle.

Hermione struggled to take off her watch, her fingers were shaking too bad. “Draco, could you get my watch?”

“Of course,” he said and swiftly unbuckled it and rested it on the bedside stand.

Madam Pomfrey walked in, wand lowered, but once she looked at Hermione’s wrist she gently swished it and her wrist was back to normal. “Good heavens, child, what did you get your ankle tangled on?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“In the Forbidden Forest were you two?”

“Yes ma’am.” they both answered.

“We were doing the ward check,” Draco explained.

“Why we never worried about that forest when it was named The Most Dangerous Magical Place to Avoid in 1995 by Witch Weekly, is beyond me.” Pomfrey shook her head.

“That’s exactly what I said,” Draco said with delight in his eyes. He turned his smile to Hermione who in turn stuck her tongue out at him.

“Here dear, take a pain reliever.” Pomfrey handed her a potion. She uncorked it and drank it.

“Mr. Malfoy, offer your hand to her, I need to straighten it first before I mend it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Draco set out his hand on the bed for Hermione to take.

Hermione thread her fingers through his. His fingers were impossibly long and nimble. His fingertips practically reached her wrist as they squeezed her hand.

Pomfrey twisted Hermione’s ankle one way and Hermione yelped out in pain.

“Nearly there, dear.” Pomfrey promised, she took out her wand and tapped at the ankle. The swelling went down, and the break mended.

Hermione sat back relieved. Still holding onto Draco’s hand.

“Alright. You’ll feel soreness tomorrow, so take this if you do.” she handed her another potion. “You can wait a few moments here to catch your breaths, but other than that, you are healed, deary.”

“Thank you, Madam Pomfrey.” Hermione smiled.

“Feel okay?” Draco asked.

She nodded and surveyed her ankle. “Yes. It’s kind of sore already, but we can try walking on it.”

“Okay.” Draco stood and helped her up.

She winced. “It’s just tender. What time is it?”

He reached for her watch. “Fuck. Nearly five in the morning.”

“You’re joking? Guess we won’t sleep today.”

“Ah, remember, we have study hall first period. I’m going to take a nap in the office.”

“That actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

He smiled and walked with her to their office. Once there, Draco took off his shoes and collapsed onto the couch. “I’m too tired to even take out the bed. I’ll sleep here for an hour, go down to breakfast, come back up for a nap.”

Hermione sat on the opposite end.

“I’ll tell anyone who asks that you had a run-in with a nasty creature in the forest, and needed to rest.”

She stretched out her legs so that her feet touched his thigh. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, but do me a favor, Granger.”

“Hm?”

“Turn the other way, your feet smell quite bad.”

She snorted. “Yours doesn’t smell like roses either, Draco.”

“I didn’t say that they didn’t, just come over this way and point your feet the other direction.”

“Fine.” she shifted so now hers and Draco’s hip were bumping next to each other. She leaned against his shoulder.

After a bit of adjusting, she lay in between his legs, her back against his chest. He propped himself up on the armrest of the couch. “Made yourself comfy there, witch?”

“Mhmm.” she nodded sleepily.

“Accio.” he whispered. Blankets came and tucked themselves around Draco and Hermione.

Hermione moaned gently. “Ginny’s going to wonder.”

“Yeah. You’ll tell her in the morning.”

“In the morning.” Hermione agreed, she then sat up. “It’s technically morning,” she said.

“You’re not wrong,” He said half asleep.

Hermione turned to him. Once he noticed that she was staring, he stared back. “What’s wrong, Granger?” he asked softly.

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” she whispered and settled back in.

“You’re welcome.”

Then sleep overtook her.

In the late afternoon, after catching up on homework and avoiding Draco’s gaze, Hermione stormed into the Gryffindor common room. Spotted Ginny sitting on the armchair excitedly talking about Quidditch.

Hermione danced over to her. “Ginny.”

“Hang on. So, we clear, tomorrow at five we’ll try the triangle remover maneuver.”

“Ginny, it’s quite important.”

“Hang on. Preston, I want you to watch out for Ravenclaw’s---”

“Ginny, I need to talk to you in private. It’s important.” Hermione said her voice strained.

Ginny stared up at Hermione. “Blimey. Okay. Fine. Quidditch over, see you tomorrow.” She stood and turned to Hermione. “Okay… what is---”

Hermione grabbed Ginny’s wrist and dragged her out of the common room.

“Bloody hell, where are we going?”

“Empty classroom.”

“For what?”

“To talk in private.”

“Listen, Mione. I don’t know who it was that brought in the snack boxes, I just ate one to get out of the History of Magic classes, I---”

Hermione wheeled on her. “You did what?”

“Nothing.”

Hermione squinted at her. “I’ll let that one go because I have an emergency.”

“You’re pregnant?” Ginny gasped.

“No!”

“Oh my gods is it Ron’s?”

“No.”

“Thank Merlin, Mum cannot handle another shock to the system like that.”

“Ginny, I haven’t had…”

“Right! You’re the only one out of the trio that hasn’t had sex.”

Hermione colored. “EMPTY CLASSROOM NOW, GIN!”

“Right okay.” Ginny found a classroom, and the two ducked in.

Hermione paced back and forth, Ginny sat down on the table of a desk.

“Am I about to find out why you didn’t come to bed last night?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Hermione paced once more. “Draco and I kissed.”

“Whaaaaa.”

“I kissed him.”

Ginny gaped at her. “You…”

“Kissed him…”

“Holy Hufflepuff.”

“Yeah.” Hermione began pacing back and forth once more.

“Why?”

She sighed. “We were out patrolling last night checking the wards on the grounds, I fell and broke my ankle, and sprained my wrist. He… took care of me, and I thought I’d thank him.”

“With your mouth?”

“It was just a peck, but tell me I’m freaking out over a peck over nothing.”

“You are.”

“But! I didn’t tell you! We slept together on the couch.”

“Like… did… Hermione did you?”

“No actual sleep, Gin.”

“Oh,” Ginny said pleasantly.

It was silent.

“Oh.” She said much differently. This ‘oh’ had much more weight.

“And he saw my undies.”

“Which ones?”

Hermione looked at her, her ears red.

“Ah. Those . Wait… how did he see… Do I want to know?”

“He had to help me out of my pants so Pomfrey could mend my ankle.”

“Pomfrey couldn’t undress you herself?”

“There were five other students who had appendicitis.”

“Blimey.”

“So. Tell me. Am I freaking out?”

“Yes. But I’m not so sure it isn’t warranted. What has he said today?”

“Nothing! He’s just been making tea all day today, and waiting for me to say something, and I don’t know what to say!” Hermione began pacing.

“Okay. Let’s stop with the walking back and forth, you’re making me dizzy.”

Hermione stopped pacing.

“Let’s start with… how did you feel kissing… Malfoy?”

“I… I don’t know!”

“Was it… bad?”

“No!”

“Nice?”

Hermione paused. Thinking about it brought butterflies to her stomach. “Yes.”

“Did… you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you wanna do it again?”

“Yes. No. Yes… Maybe.”

“Mum always says the first answer you say is your gut, so yes.”

Hermione put her face into her hands. “I didn’t even ask him if he… oh gods.”

“You just… laid one on him?”

“Ye--No! It was like a peck.”

Ginny sighed. “Hermione, I can’t answer what you should do next, but I do think you’re getting nowhere talking to me about it. Although I love the drama.”

Hermione sighed and pushed back her hair.

“Okay fine. One last question. Answer as soon as I ask it. Okay?”

Hermione nodded.

“Do you want to snog Draco Malfoy?”

“I don’t know.”

Ginny opened her mouth then frowned closing it. “Well. I got nothing then. Go talk to him. Figure it out.”

Hermione felt she was doing a very un-Hermione thing. Ignoring the problem. She and Draco spoke minimally during the week after she had kissed him.

It came to a head on the seventeenth. She received an owl at Slughorn’s dinner party. It was set to be the next Sunday, on the twenty-fourth. Something scratched at her brain at that.

“Next week, I had tutoring, so I worked it out with McGonagall to do our weekly ward check to Tuesday, Granger,” Draco said as she opened her mail.

“Who with?” She asked feigning nonchalantly.

“Slughorn.”

“So on the twenty-fourth?”

“Yes.”

“What on?”

“Liquid Luck.”

“Oh.” Hermione nodded and sat back in her chair and frowned.

Draco looked up at her and frowned. “Why? Do you want to go by yourself through the forbidden forest?”

“No… just… curious. What time is your tutoring?”

“Evening.”

“Say… six o’clock?”

“I guess.” he shrugged.

Hermione hummed and nodded.

Draco narrowed his eyes.

“Because, well… Slughorn has his dinner party that night.” she held up the invitation.

He glared at her.

“Also, that night you had tutoring when you left me alone at Hogsmeade, Slughorn also had another Slug Club.”

He was silent, and the rage was about to boil over, Hermione could feel it.

She was about to open her mouth to amend the situation. Explain to Draco, she didn’t really care, it’s just she knew he was lying. If he needed a night off from Head Boy duties, she understood.

Instead, he cut her off before she even spoke. “How long have you been sitting on this information, Granger?” he asked darkly.

She stared at him.

“I told McGonagall you’d figure it out. So go on. Say it.”

Now Hermione was rightly confused. “Say what?”

He sneered at her. “Say that I’m disgusting. Say that I deserved what I got.”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t believe that!” She gasped.

“Fuck off, Granger. Fuck off. You figured it out and now you want me to what? Beg?”

“What the bloody hell---”

“You listen to the rumors, did you catch on?”

“None of those were true!” she reasoned.

“One was. One was true, you started to dig deeper then, huh? Started figuring it out what’s wrong with me. So what? Were you just playing me to get more information to sell to the Prophet? I can see the headline now!” He stood and slammed his fists into the desk.

“Draco, honestly! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“ Hermione Granger, Muggle-born, figures out Rich Racist Boy, Draco Malfoy’s curse .” Draco spat

“I wouldn’t sell anything to the Prophet! I swear, especially after how they treated me during fourth year!”

“Oh, so this is revenge for what I did to you?”

“No! Draco, listen to me!”

“That kiss? Was that just more fuel to the gossip?”

Hermione gaped at him, her cheeks flushing.

“Piss off, Granger.” He hissed and stormed out. Leaving Hermione stunned.

She waited up for him, she felt like it was the right thing to do after all. She needed to explain herself. He was gone most of the afternoon, but she brought him dinner hoping he’d be back in their office after some time alone to cool off. He wasn’t there.

She sighed and thanked Tuney, the paid house-elf, when she cleaned up the uneaten food. Then she tucked herself into the couch with a book of Magical Law and Punishment. She yawned and stretched, noting that the evening light had now faded into a dark crisp black night.

She lifted her wrist to check her watch to realize that it wasn’t there.

Hermione frowned and rubbed her wrist, and thought to when she last had it. Last Sunday, she had broken her ankle and sprained her wrist. That seemed eons ago especially after she kissed Draco.

She stood, and her feet carried her to the hospital wing.

“Hello Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione greeted.

Pomfrey was a few beds away settling a first year who looked a gory purple and spitting up butterflies. Second year memories flooded her brain as she remembered Ron throwing up slugs to protect her honor from, funnily enough, Draco.

“Ms. Granger, are you here about your ankle?”

“No, ma’am, but… I think I left my watch here the other day, did you happen to find it?”

“Ah, yes. I thought that was yours. Follow me, deary.” She gestured to her desk in the back of the hall and opened the first drawer.

“Ah!” Hermione pointed excitedly.

“Very clever watch you have there, Ms. Granger,” Pomfrey added, handing her the brown leather strapped watch.

“Thank you.” She fastened it on her left wrist happily, and wiped away the dust and smudges from the glass face to reveal that it was nearing nine at night, and it was a half-moon night tonight.

“Does that chart the moon cycle too?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Clever witch.”

“Thank you, I got it in my third year from a magazine. Specifically, I got it to track Professor Lupin’s cycle to confirm my suspicions.” Hermione nodded.

“Very smart, deary.”

“Eh, lot good it’s done me so far. I’ve only been keeping it for the time, recently.”

“Well, take it from a healer, you never know when something will come in handy.” She squeezed her upper arm and walked Hermione out.

She began to walk back to the office but considered stopping by the kitchens to ask the elves for a few Cauldron Cakes to smooth things over for Draco. Then again, what did she have to smooth over? Wasn’t it him that was the one that yelled at her and stormed out? It was him that should apologize.

She fought with herself on the matter, and was so distracted that she almost didn’t see the fourth-year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff boys run out of an empty classroom.

“Hold on! Slow down!” Hermione yelled.

The Ravenclaw boy slowed long enough for him to shout. “Bogart in there!”

She blinked, then looked at the darkened classroom. Finding her bravery, she squared her shoulders and drew out her wand.

The desks were all pushed in a haphazard path that led the way to a twelve-foot-tall vampire. She leaned forward wheezing. Hermione lifted her wand and waited.

Golden eyes turned to her and Hermione braced herself. It was usually McGonagall telling her that she had failed all the school exams. This time, she was going to have all the exams in McGonagall’s arms fly out and around over her head and up her robes. Hermione would cackle as loud as she could and do it again and again.

The bogart fell to the floor, and in the dark, Hermione couldn’t see McGonagall, instead, she saw a mess of curly hair and a figure on the ground panting, then laughing evilly.

Bellatrix Lestrange cocked her head up to Hermione from the floor. She smiled, her teeth black. “Filthy Mudblood.” She cooed.

Hermione stood frozen. Her arm itched.

“Itty bitty fake witchy. GIVE ME YOUR WAND!”

“R-r-r-redikulus.” Hermione waved her wand, but nothing happened.

“I will carve it in again until you understand! YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE MUDBLOOD.”

“Redikulus.”

“Fake WITCH!” Bellatrix shouted and lumbered forward

“I am not!”

“Using your stolen magic on me!”

“Redikulus.”

Bellatrix cackled this time loudly and threw her head back. “No magic! No witch here!”

“Granger!” Draco stuttered, running in his wand drawn.

He and Bellatrix looked at each other.

Draco raised his wand. “Bella?”

The Bogart transformed into Voldemort.

Hermione screamed.

“Immobulus!” Draco shouted and the Bogart froze, he then flicked his wand and thew Voldemort into the wardrobe.

He pocketed his wand and rushed to Hermione. “You alright?”

She couldn’t answer.

“Granger?”

“She was going to kill me.” She whispered her knees failing her.

Draco caught her. “No, no she wasn’t.”

“She was!” Hermione insisted.

He stared at her as they were impossibly close. “I would have never let her.” He muttered staring up at her through his eyelashes.

“But then you would’ve died.” She said her throat closing.

Draco shook his head. “It wouldn’t have mattered. It would’ve been the only good thing I had done in my life.”

Hermione sobbed.

“Let’s get you back to our office, yes?”

“You’re so mad at me.” She whimpered, feeling like a child.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not mad… I just got hurt… thought you were pushing me to admit…” he shook his head.

He stared at her and she stared back, still crying.

“I’m sorry.” he muttered.

She buried her face into his chest and shook uncontrollably.

All the while, Malfoy whispered in her ear. “I got you, you’re safe. I would’ve never let her kill you. It’s all over, it’s okay.”

When McGonagall heard about the Bogart situation, she ordered Hermione to take the week off. Much to Hermione’s disappointment. Hermione begged Ginny and Draco to save homework for her and bring it to her during mealtimes so she wouldn’t fall behind.

Ginny gave up by Thursday morning telling Hermione to take it easy whereas Draco never even uttered the phrase “Slow down.” to her.

Saturday Draco and Ginny went to Hogsmeade while Hermione did a mandatory check-in with Pomfrey. Pomfrey knew immediately that Hermione wasn’t resting like she was supposed to scold her for roughly half an hour before noting that it wasn’t going to help. So instead, Pomfrey told Hermione to take Sunday off by drinking an extra-strong sleeping draught potion.

So Hermione slept until Monday morning, got up, and found her way to the breakfast table. She noticed Draco hadn’t arrived, so she fixed him a plate and went to their office.

She walked into an empty office. Which was strange, if he wasn’t in the office, then he was typically grabbing a bite to eat at the great hall. But he hadn’t arrived a the great hall. She figured, maybe he was in the library, but that made even less sense, as Madam Pince was in the great hall that morning. She thought about sending an owl out to find him, but as she was planning out the letter to him in her head, he walked in.

His cheeks were so hollowed in he looked close to death. He looked whiter than a sheet. He trembled when walking in, and upon seeing her, he sighed then held up a bottle.

Fire Whiskey.

“Where’d you get that?” she asked, more perplexed by the sick Draco holding a bottle of alcohol than sick Draco.

“Ah… third year. I don’t know how he got his hands on it.”

“Oh.”

“I’m supposed to turn it into McGonagall.” he sighed and limped over to his desk and opened a drawer and dropped it in.

“I mean… technically we are of age.” Hermione shrugged.

He smirked. “We’ll save it for another day, Granger.” He winced as he sat down.

“You okay? You look sick, again?”

He nodded. “The flu, I’m sure.” he nodded.

“Madam Pomfrey…”

“Gave me a lot of grief for not forcing you on bed rest after the incident on Sunday the previous. Not going to go see her and have her give me another lecture.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”

He shook his head. “I’ll tell you what I told her… do you really think I can stop Hermione Granger from doing what she wants? But please for both of what’s left of our sanity, rest a little?”

“It looks like you need to take your own advice, Draco.”

He was sprawled out on his chair, his eyelids heavy. “Like I said. The flu.”

“Before the Sunday before yesterday… I’m sorry for avoiding you.”

He shrugged and smirked. “You’re not the first witch to kiss me then run away.”

Hermione blushed.

“Would you like some tea?” He asked.

“You’re ill, so let me make it,” Hermione said, jutting out her chin.

He sighed. “Fine, but you got to come over here, I cannot move at the moment.”

She happily stood and walked to his desk and opened the drawer where she knew he kept the tea supplies. Suddenly, a flash of crimson caught her eye.“Oh, Draco! You’re bleeding.”

He looked down. “What?”

“Your stomach, look!” she pointed.

Draco picked at the dress shirt now ruined with blood.

“Let me see.”

“No, I should go to Madam Pomfrey.”

“She’s going to give you a lecture, remember?”

He sat silently.

“Let me fix it.”

He hesitated. “It’s not… It’s not pretty.” he muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“My… I have a lot of scars.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“But I do.”

“Why?”

He hesitated.

“Draco, you’re bleeding… let me---”

“I can’t take my shirt off the whole way. I don’t want you to see… I can’t let you see.” his left arm twitched nervously.

“It’s fine, just help me unbutton it. But you should know I’m still not offended by the dark mark. You’ve changed.”

His cheeks tinged pink. “It’s… you… I…” he groaned.

She leaned forward and pressed both hands to his shoulders. “Draco, it’ll be okay. I won’t say anything about your scars. Just let me help you.”

He did so and with nimble fingers, she undid his buttons and tucked the shirt away from the wound. She gasped when she saw the scratch, but also when she saw…

Thick lines of mottled skin scarred his chest. They were twice as light as his skin color. It looked like his whole body had been cut up, then put back together. Once it was all together, it was sliced up then put back together.

“I told you.” He whispered embarrassedly.

She ignored him and turned her attention to the scratch. He had already attempted to heal it, originally the scratch stemmed from what looked to be his back, near his rib cage. All it looked like was the healing charm had begun to wear out, which probably explained why he looked so tired. Healing charms worked best when the witch or wizard casting them was at least decently rested.

Hermione took out her wand and splaying her left on his upper chest to steady him, she muttered the healing charm and watched in awe as the skin began to knit itself back together and heal.

It was silent as Hermione then turned to make tea. Draco stared up at her from his chair. Once the tea had brewed she handed him his mug.

“Are you waiting to see if I tell you what happened?”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

He settled in.

“Sorry I kissed you.”

“No, no. I… I didn’t hate it.”

“Same.”

He chuckled into his tea.

They sat in companionable silence the rest of the day.

On the thirtieth, a Saturday, they found themselves once more at night on another walk around the Forbidden Forest checking the wards.

“How was that cut I healed?”

“Still healed.”

She nodded. “How’d you get it?”

“What can I say, Granger, I’m an uncoordinated bastard.” Draco drawled.

“That I find hard to believe.”

“Well, believe it.”

She rolled her eyes.

“The one across my collarbone to my sternum is from Potter, sixth year.”

“Oh.”

Though she was ahead of him, in her mind's eye, she could see his head bobbing up and down. “After Severus rescued me, I was quite upset with him. I wanted to die that year.”

She remained silent but slowed her walk to listen to him. She figured that he was able to tell her this because he wasn’t facing her. It was akin to shouting into a void.

“Several on my back are from my father.” He paused in his steps and Hermione turned back to watch him heal a hole the shape of an unfortunate bird.

“Your father?” She asked, watching blue mist flow from his wand.

He shrugged. “Big fan of corporal punishment.”

“I wish I were surprised to hear that,” Hermione said, starting to walk again.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the way he treated Dobby told me everything I needed to know. Also, Harry was raised in an abusive household, once he finally came clean, I started recognizing the signs.”

“How does a house-elf and beating a little wizard boy have anything in common?”

Hermione cocked her head as she stepped over a branch. “If he was so casually cruel with Dobby in public, someone he considered inferior to himself… I shudder to think what he did to you in private.”

“Yeah, well. Supposedly he loved me back then.”

“Odd way of showing it.”

“I don’t think he ever truly loved me. My mum, yes without a doubt. Me… I don’t think so.”

They crunched leaves under their feet as they walked on.

“What about you? Any other scars?”

She stopped and shone a light on her hands. Her knuckles had round scars in the shape of pretty bubbles. “Bobotuber Puss, undiluted. I also have a few from splicing.”

“Ouch, how did that happen?”

“Fourth year, during the crazy Triwizard thing. A passionate fan of Harry or maybe Victor sent me some nasty mail.”

“And the splicing?”

“Mostly little nicks. Once while we were on the run, I nearly spliced Ron’s arm off.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, he went into shock. I felt so guilty because it was the last thing we needed.” she shook her head.

“What about the two on your ankles?” he asked.

She remembered, and then thankful for the dark as she blushed. “Oh! One is from a run-in with Devil Snare, the other also from fourth year, when the merpeople kidnapped Ron and me.”

“Devil Snare?”

“First year. The upstairs corridor that was forbidden.”

“Ah.”

“So… when you and Weasley got taken to the merpeople's… I don’t know… Lair?”

“Right?”

“I thought the champion was only allowed one to save. So which was it?”

“Ron was for Harry, but he also saved Fleur’s sister, I was for Victor.”

“So… the papers were right?” he asked with a smile tugging at his voice.

She fought a smile and blushed. “Only partially. Victor was a very physical being.”

“Was he now?” Draco said with a full-on grin.

“Not like… he wanted to… worship me.”

“Do you not want to be worshiped, Granger?” Draco said huskily.

Oh wizard gods, the way he said that gave her images of him on his knees, begging. She in her pretty lingerie that Ginny made her buy once so that she quote “Had SOMETHING to show off when the occasion arrives.”

“Not the way he wanted,” Hermione said in a small voice.

“Tell me.” He cooed.

“Uhm… he wanted to watch me read and study.”

“Can’t say I blame him, you’re pretty cute when you’re reading.”

She was so distracted by that statement, that she walked into a thick web, and let out a small yelp.

“Oh, don’t tell me you broke your other --- WHOA!”

“Draco?” Hermione asked pulling the web off of her.

“Something’s got me!” He said his voice filled with panic.

Hermione raised her wand and flicked the ball of light into the air. To her horror, she saw Draco holding on to the thick rooted earth. His leg was in between the pincers of a spider the size of a small horse. His wand was about a foot ahead of him, but he couldn’t reach it, both his hands were gripping tightly to a gnarled root of a tree.

“Incendio!” she shouted.

The spider let go and Hermione rushed to his side, handing him his wand and yanking him up. “We need to get out of here.”

He scrambled up, clenching onto Hermione’s forearm for balance.

“There’s going to be more.” She added as he righted himself.

“How do you know?”

“Ron and Harry. They had a run-in with the giant spiders, second year. That one is small compared to the ones they talked about.”

“Fuck… that was small?”

“Is your leg okay?”

“What?”

“Leg? Can you run?”

“Right. Yes.”

She grabbed his hand and they dashed through the forest searching for the path. After about a quarter of an hour running aimlessly, Hermione stopped them.

“This is useless, we’re running in circles. I know a spell for this. Cast a---”

Before she finished her sentence, Draco whipped his wand into the air and muttered “Protego.”

Instantly as if water was being spewed from his wand, a silvery blue shield went up and around them.

“Thank you.” She put her palm out flat and the wand balanced neatly. “Point me,” she whispered.

It turned to the left. She grasped her wand and pointed. “Castle is that way.”

He nodded but didn’t drop the shield. Catching his breath.

In the distance, they heard what sounded like thousands of tiny feet skittering towards them.

“Draco, we have to go,” Hermione said.

“We could just stay here, the shield might tire them out.”

“I don’t think so, let’s go.”

“Are you sure?”

“No!”

“Then we shouldn’t drop the---”

“Now, Draco, we need to go.” She grabbed his hand.

He breathed heavily. “Wait, just wait.”

“You’re going to get us---”

The first large spider ran full force against the shield. The spider flailed about for a moment, before falling dead. A large crack formed where the spider was.

Draco dropped the shield and they both ran full force to the left.

“Incendio!” Hermione threw back.

It slowed the hoard of spiders, just for a moment.

Draco threw back a curse, but then tripped, landing on his front. “Fuck. Go, run.”

“Like hell!” She spat and with strength, she didn’t know she had, hoisted him up and they began running again.

“Thanks.”

“And you say Gryffindor’s are self-sacrificing.”

“You really want to argue about this now?”

“Argue?”

“Oh, don’t pretend that you picking me up wasn’t self-sacrificial.” He hissed.

“You want to argue about schoolhouses, now?” She yelped.

They ran a few meters before he responded. “You started it, and you should admit it.”

“Admit what? We’re about to die? Well spotted!”

“No, admit it, Granger. All the times you and Potter and Weasley ran, their conversations weren’t nearly as intellectually stimulating as me.”

“I really don’t think we should be arguing about this now!” Shouted, throwing a curse behind her.

“Again, you started it.”

They leapt over the last of the brush that made up the Forbidden Forest, and Hermione skittered to a halt, hunching over to catch her breath.

Draco tugged her. “They’re right behin---”

She passed a hand over her face. “No… Hagrid has a… a… fuck… an agreement with them to not pass… and… there’s a barrier.” she pointed.

He put his hands on his hips and breathed deeply. “Ah.”

She laid down on the grass staring up at the stars. “Holy fuck.” she moaned.

He laughed and laid down next to her so that only their heads were next to each other. “The mouth on you, Granger.”

She rolled her eyes, too out of breath to retort.

The night air was filled with them panting hard.

Suddenly, Hermione sat up. “Your leg!” she gasped.

He looked at her, his head crooked to look at her. “Oh, I’d forgotten.”

She scrambled over before he moved any further and gently rolled up his pant leg. It was oozing blood, but nothing was broken. She sighed a little in relief and tapped it with her wand muttering something. Instantly the skin healed, leaving a minute hair of a scar.

“Thanks, Granger.” he said, leaning on his elbows, watching her.

“Don’t mention it.” she took a deep breath and wiped away the sweat from her forehead.

“I didn’t know you were ambidextrous,” he said suddenly.

“Huh?”

“You can cast with both hands?”

“Oh! Right. I taught myself.”

“Amazing.”

“Thanks.”

They were silent, now their breaths were slowing and not as heavy.

Draco stood and offered a hand to Hermione.

“We should probably send an owl to McGonagall, tell her what happened.” He said.

“She’ll tell us ‘ What do you expect? In the forest that was voted most dangerous in 1995 by Witch Weekly? ’” Hermione said in a decent impression of McGonagall.

Draco’s laughter boomed, making Hermione blush deeply. “You kill me, Granger.”

She smiled at the ground tucking some hair behind her ear.

Draco reached over and pinched a lock of her hair between his fingers.

“I need a drink after that. You?”

She smiled. “I need at least two.”

“I know this bar that only serves one bottle of Fire Whiskey, it’s called Our Office.”

“Fantastic name for a bar.”

“I know.”

“Pity they only have Fire Whiskey.”

“Ah, dear witch, don’t fret. We’re only two months into school. We’re bound to come across more contraband soon.”

“Just not tonight.”

“C’mon, beggars can’t be choosers.”

They entered into their office, the fire still going.

“Shit, you’re bleeding,” Draco said as she walked past him.

“What? Where?”

“Your calf. You’re dripping blood everywhere.”

“Damn, I was wondering why my leg felt tingly. Filtch is going to kill me.” Hermione said turning her body to look at the gash about the size of her palm, however, it was narrow and jagged.

“Sit on the couch, you can teach me.”

She complied. “So, you trace your wand over the wound, or wounds, and say Vulnera Sanentur .”

“Ah, Severus used that one on me.”

“When?”

“Ah… Potter and the bathroom…”

“Right.”

He put his wand over her gash and muttered the incantation. Slowly the tingling went away and the wound knitted itself back together. “Thank you.” she breathed.

“How about that drink, Granger?”

“Sure, but wouldn’t you rather a sleeping potion?”

“Eh, I’ve gotten to the point where they’re too weak. “

“Ah. Well, we should try and drink it in one go, get rid of it fast, so what say we do a drinking game?”

He shook his head and blinked dramatically. “A drinking game with Hermione Granger, I’d never see the day.”

She rolled her eyes. “Gryffindor, remember? Quite a lot of our post-Quidditch games devolved into a drinking game.”

“Devolved or Evolved?”

“Devolved. No mistake. Though, I don’t think anyone is truly a Gryffindor if they haven’t passed out in front of the fire and woken up the next morning with a hangover so powerful that you couldn’t see straight for a week.”

He snorted. “Slytherin’s are much more classy than drinking games. We prefer to enjoy our liquor.”

“So posh. Only drink liquor that has been aged for at least a century?” Hermione teased as he approached.

“Har-har, Granger. What’s your poison? And I mean game because…” he shook the bottle a little.

“Truth or Drink.” She said suddenly. The game was actually Truth, Dare, or Drink, but it was never fun when two people played it. The logic behind it was if you didn’t do the truth or the dare, you’d have to drink. Eventually, one would get drunk enough to do anything or say anything. Hermione found the dares to be more than humiliating and the questions to discover the ‘truth’ were eventually incomprehensible as someone would be laughing too hard.

Also, she didn’t want to be put in a situation where she was at the mercy of Draco Malfoy. No matter how much that made her insides squirm happily.

“How do we play?”

“Pretty simple, ask a question, the person getting asked gets to decide if they want to answer or not. If you do, answer truthfully, if not, take a drink.”

“I’m game. Who goes first?”

“You have a coin? I’ll go for tails.”

He rummaged through his pockets and located a sickle. “Heads.” he flipped it and caught it. He pressed it to the back of his left hand, then lifted.

Heads.

“Alright. You go first.” Hermione nodded.

He poured them each a shot. “What was the most embarrassing thing your parents walked in on you doing?” he corked the whiskey and sat.

“Easy. Breaking up with Ron. The first time.”

“You can’t leave me hanging on that one. Tell the story.”

She sighed and rubbed her thumb to her forehead. “It was Harry’s birthday weekend, and we decided to go as a group to my family’s house so my mum and dad could meet Ron and Harry. Ron and I had a really bad row before arriving, and I thought it was… the argument was silly. I thought the argument was over, but then Ron cornered me in my childhood bedroom and I was so upset he was still on about it that I… broke up with him.”

“And your parents then walked in?”

“Yes.”

He laughed.

“Alright… longest you’ve ever held onto a library book before?”

He snorted. “Really, Granger?”

“It shows character!” she said indigently.

He gazed at her and smirked. “Alright… longest… maybe four weeks. I lost the book. Madam Pince still hasn’t forgiven me for that one. Your turn… scariest thing that you ever had to happen to you? Besides the whole ordeal at my house, I’d rather not have a panic attack before I’m drunk, thank you.”

“Oh, the manor was just the most traumatizing, not the scariest. Scariest would be the World Cup the summer before fourth year. It was the first time that I realized that… no matter how hard I try. No matter how good I am at being a witch, there’ll always be someone who wants to kill me or hurt me for no other reason other than my blood status. Harry and Ron were worried for me. They were making plans to hide me in a tree.”

He nodded. “I remember that day. Sorry I was such a git.”

“It’s okay.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I just won’t take it easy with you.”

He snorted. “Do your worst.”

“Fine. Same question.”

“I’ll take the drink. Thanks.” He sighed and pressed the mug to his lips and swallowed the shot. He coughed a little and poured another shot for himself. “Any of your exes, would you give them another go?”

“No.”

“Not even Weasley?”

She raised her finger. “Ah! That’s two questions.”

“It’s a follow-up.”

“Then follow up for your next one.”

“Tease. Your turn.”

“Last person, you said ‘I love you’ to that wasn’t a family member?”

He sighed softly, looked at his mug in his hands, and then knocked it back. He swallowed with a grunt. “You know your question.”

“I’ve actually dated two Weasley’s but I assume you’re asking about Ron.”

“Wait a minute---”

“The answer is no. It hurt a lot that he just thought he could… step out on me and think that I’d be okay with it.” She cleared her throat. “My turn. What about any of your exes?”

He looked at the amber liquid and was considering drinking it when he answered. “Yes. One. But it’ll never happen.”

“Who?”

He smirked, looking up at her through his lashes. “That’s a follow-up, Granger.”

“Fine.”

“List one positive and negative thing about me.”

“More of a dare.”

“If you drink you’ll hurt my feelings.”

Hermione gave him a fake pout.

“I also noticed that you haven’t taken one shot at all, and I’m up to two. I’m trying to even the score, dear witch.”

“Well… do you want physical?”

“Whatever suits your fancy.”

“Fine.” She sighed and took a breath. “Physically. I… like your eyes. Especially when you smile. Negative, huh… that’s a hard one.”

“Come off it. My height…”

Hermione shook her head. Only in the deepest darkest nights had she had thought of a tall blonde handsome man that looked only a little bit like Draco. Fine, only a lot like Draco.

“My nose, my hair…”

“No. I like those.”

He rolled his eyes. “Bollox. Drink.”

“Seriously!”

“Nope. Drink.”

“Why?”

“You can’t like everything about me, Granger.”

“Says who?”

“The question.”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“Then drink.”

“I think you set me up on that one,” she grumbled but took her shot dutifully.

“Your turn.”

“Okay… Including me, how many people have you kissed, on the mouth?”

“Technically, I never got to kiss you back.”

“Eh, I think---”

“Trust me, Granger, when I kiss you you’ll know, not think,” he said with such a lovely smirk that she nearly reached over and kissed him right on the mouth, again.

Instead, she rolled her eyes. “Answer or drink, you prat.”

His smirk deepened. “Including our brush of the lips, five. Same question.”

Victor, McLaggen, Ron, Luna, George, Draco. She cleared her throat. “Including you, six.”

He seemed surprised by this answer.

“Six?”

“Yes.”

“So… five other men before me.”

“Why so shocked?” she blushed not wanting to correct him. Not yet. She knew it was coming, she felt they were both on the edge of a precipice.

He shrugged. “Your question.”

“What were the names of your five?” she asked.

He didn’t even flinch, he just downed the drink in less than a second after she asked her question. “You’re trying to get me drunk, Granger.”

“I think that is what you wanted in the first place.”

“Not wrong, now I just have to get you on the same page as me. What about your six?”

“You expect me to tell you, but you can’t be bothered to tell me.”

He scoffed. “Three things. One, I don’t kiss and tell. Two, I figured you’re playing some sort of game behind this game, so I’ve decided to play with you. Three, you know the rules. Don’t be so affronted, take your drink, Granger.”

“Fine.” she cleared her throat. He raised an eyebrow at her, and watched as she lifted the mug in her hand. She brought it to her lips, but then quickly back down.

“No stalling.”

A wicked smile curled on her lips. “Victor Krum, Cormick McLaggen, Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood, George Weasely, Draco Malfoy.”

“You like them dumb and ta--- hang on… Luna’s a girl.”

She nodded.

“You’re a girl, Granger.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, don’t tell me you’ve never met someone who’s…”

“I have.”

“Then don’t tell me you’re homophobic.”

“What? No.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t answer, he just stared at her, then down at his drink. He swallowed it.

“That wasn’t---”

“I know. I needed something .”

She sighed. “No need to be so dramatic, it’s called bisexuality. I like both.”

He poured another shot and swallowed it. He paused.

The seconds ticked by.

“Are you really bothered by this?” she asked.

He drank again.

“That wasn’t---”

“I know, Granger. It’s called liquid courage for a reason, I’m sure a Gryffindor could understand that.”

“Okay.”

The fire crackled. Draco stared at it. He poured another shot and drank it slowly. “I need to tell you something. But I don’t know how,” he said softly.

“What is it?”

“You’ll hate me.”

“I won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think I could ever go back to hating you. After everything we’ve been through in the past two years, it won’t happen.”

The fire crackled, and Draco stared at his empty mug. “Mine are…” he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Hermione cocked her head towards him.

“Mine are… Millicent Bullstrode, Hannah Abbot, Pansey Parkinson, Blase Zambini, Hermione Granger.”

The fire gently burned beside them.

“Oh.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah.”

“Who else knows?”

His lips pursed he looked at the fire then back to Hermione, he dropped his gaze and looked at her mug, still with the shot at the bottom. “Blaise, Pansy, my father, and now… you.”

It was silent as Hermione stared.

“Not… maybe you know this because you’re you, but maybe not because you’re muggle-born… it’s… it’s not good being gay. My father… he…”

Something clicked in Hermione’s head. “That’s why Pansy hit you. She believes in that whole sacred twenty-eight, thus also believes in the whole anti-gay.”

He nodded.

“Your father, he didn’t take it well.”

He shook his head.

“So that’s why he burned Bellatrix’s letters to you.”

“And why he saw fit to hire Greyback to turn me.”

She reached out and brushed her fingers with his.

He slowly brought his hand back, still not looking at her. “I don’t need your sympathy, Granger.” He spat halfheartedly. “The whole of the Weasley clan probably welcomed you with open arms, eh?”

“Actually, you’re the fourth person who knows. Harry, Ginny, Luna, and now you.”

He was silent.

Hermione was silent, she didn’t know what else to say in this situation.

“Father walked in on us… Blaise and I. He petrified me, and then while I watched, he tortured Blaise. Then when he figured Blaise had enough, he petrified him…”

“He made you watch.”

He nodded.

“You don’t… you know that it’s not wrong, right?”

He smirked softly. “Yeah, but I didn’t figure it out right away. After he was done with making sure we would never do that again, he threw Blaise out, and then locked me in my room. I was so disgusted with myself that I thought this was the way to get rid of my feelings, so I stayed. I should’ve… I should’ve used magic or something to break out.”

Hermione shook her head. “You were sixteen.”

“You, Potter, and Weasley had done braver things than me leaving at age sixteen.”

“Yes, because we were idiots.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Then, he and my mother went on holiday without me, which wasn’t strange, but they had left me alone on my birthday. Late June, I was bit.

“Then vol… Vold…” He let a watery sigh out. “Vol… fuck my life. Vold…”

“I know who you’re talking about.”

“He told me he had a cure but---”

“There is no current cure.” He and Hermione said at the same time.

“But… he had a way of speaking, you don’t get it. He could tell me that my skin was actually neon purple and I needed to exist on dung beetles for the rest of my life, and I would’ve believed it. He said he would give me the cure, so that way I could be a pureblood again, and he’d make me a Deatheater, he would give it to me if I…”

“Killed Dumbledore.”

Draco nodded. “Halfway through the year, I think Dumbledore figured it out. Lupin visited me, and he tried talking to me but I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to listen. Then I got word that he got my mother, and… that meant that he expected me to fail, and he’d kill my mother once I did.” He rolled up his sleeve to show her the bite mark, but there was a silver one that spanned from the base of his wrist to about a quarter of his forearm. Long and silver.

Hermione reached for it. She traced her fingers along with it, then tangled her fingers with his. She squeezed.

“I really wanted to die that year. I did this, and Severus found me, Potter tried to kill me in the bathroom, and Severus found me. That summer, things just got so much worse. My mother had no say in what they could do to me. So my dad kept me in the dungeons that Potter and Weasley were in… they moved me out once I had a handle on the wolfsbane and when Lovegood…”

Hermione nodded. “Is that why your father is on death row? He not only killed a lot of people, but he also abused you and another underage wizard, turned you into a werewolf, and then stepped aside when You-know-who demanded you do his bidding.”

Draco gave a slow nod.

Hermione scooted closer on the couch, their knees touched. She took their mugs and set them on the coffee table. Then, as slow as she could manage, she put his face into her hands. He flinched, but then when he looked into Hermione’s eyes, he relaxed.

She wiped a stray tear away with her thumb. “You deserved so much better, Love.” she whispered.

His lip quivered. “You can say that, even after everything I’ve done to you, said to you? Do you really believe that?”

She nodded. “Yes. You have changed, you have apologized for your actions. The world didn’t need to punish you further.”

His face broke a little. “Granger, I mean everything . Everything I have done, do you really think I don’t deserve---”

“No! No one deserves to be treated like that. No man, woman, child, or living creature. Sure you were a git, but it never warranted being punished for being attracted to men! Without a question. You did not deserve that, Draco Malfoy. And I’ll hex the shit out of people who say you do.”

A sob fell from his lips. “I think you’re wrong,” he said in a voice so thin it cut through the fog of Hermione’s anger.

“Ask Harry and Ron how many times I’ve been wrong. They’ll tell you how often.

His face broke all the way and he bowed his head, crying. Hermione sat on her knees and let his head rest between her neck and shoulder. While he cried, she carded her fingers through his hair, and rubbed his back.

Finally, his heart-wrenching weeps subsided.

Hermione sat down, freeing her legs.

“Sorry,” he said with a stuffy nose.

“Nothing to apologize for.”

He cleared his throat. “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”

“No. Never.” She swore, and she meant it.

“I won’t tell anyone either, as if I have people to talk to.”

Hermione paused and looked at the fire. “That’s why the Slytherin’s haven’t been kind towards you this year?”

“No. They’re not happy because they think I lied to send my dad to Azkaban.”

“Ah.” She poured herself a drink, conjured an ice cube, and swirled it around in her mug. Now she sipped it.

“I’m guessing we’re done with the game. Do all of them end up emotional?”

Hermione snorted. “Sometimes. You’ve been partially initiated into the Gryffindor house tonight, Draco.”

He fake retched. “Oh gods, if I knew that was where we were going, I would’ve never said yes to being head boy along with you. Me a Gryffindor, can you imagine?”

She laughed.

“I’ve been trying to think about our new password.” Draco cleared his throat.

“Right. It resets tonight.”

“Amortancula?”

She grinned. “That sounds about right.” She reached over and clinked her mug with his.